He Is Love--Destiel CollegeDoc Martens AU
by TheRainbowDalek
Summary: Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak end up sharing an apartment while attending the Maryland Institute College of Arts. They meet a lot of new people along the way, and their relationship grows stronger.


Castiel Novak sat in his apartment, eyes opening to look out the window into the late night streets of Baltimore city, Maryland. The rain was dripping onto his arm, resting on the edge of the window, gathering dewy drops. They would run down his skin, and the hit the old fire escape with a ping. He watched the process, keeping his mind busy. Tonight was his last night living here, in this old brick complex with Anna. As of September first, Castiel would start his sophomore year of college in the Baltimore Institute College of Arts.

Sure, his apartment wouldn't be far from her. He would still go to the same dance studio and the same stores, but something made him sad about leaving. He knew that he would need to leave soon, it was getting too crowded in the tiny space for two adults, but he still yearned to stay.

He pulled the blanket up higher on his neck, closing his eyes. Behind his lids he could still see the warm glow of the tiny fairy light lanterns. He lay, still and warm, listening to Daughter stream through his room, and the pitter-patter of the rain. His mind drifted off, and he fell asleep.

(Inconspicuous Authors Note: I DO NOT OWN SUPERNATURAL OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS)

+ + +

Dean Winchester awoke with a start, his mind racing, in a slow sort of way. Thoughts of the upcoming year ran across his mind, causing havoc, while his head ached from the lack of sleep. It caused a destructive feeling between anxiety and tiredness. He looked to his doorway, where his tree of a brother stood, waiting for him to get up. Dean rubbed his eyes, stripping the warm sheets from the bare skin of his chest.

Sweat pants hung low on his hips, and engulfed his ankles, as he got out of bed unsteadily. "Morning," Sam smirked, as he watched Dean fumble, tripping over packed boxes. "I made you coffee."

"Mm, thanks," Dean grumbled, rubbing his face and walking out his room, down the hall. He stopped in the bathroom , his teeth a quick brush to get the bitter morning taste out of his mouth. His hand groped the counter, and found his glasses, slipping them onto his nose. He wasn't very fond of them, but he had to wear them. Contacts would cost to much, and unlike last year, he had to go without them. "Sammy," He called, walking out of the bathroom. "When's Bobby coming today?"

"I think around eleven," Sam pulled out his phone, scanning the screen. "Yeah," He confirmed. "He'll bring me to his place, then send me off to the boarding school," Sam smiled excitedly. He had been waiting for months to hear if they had accepted him in. It was one of the best schools in the country. Sammy was smart, Dean often boasted about his GPA, and how all the teachers loved him. "By the way, rockin' the glasses." Sam nodded sarcastically with a smirk.

Dean rolled his eyes, and shoved the back of Sammy's head. "You lil bitch,"

"Jerk," He retorted affectionately.

+ + +

"Please don't do anything stupid," Anna set her hands on Castiel's shoulders. "You are limited to getting drunk by accident one time, no more, no less." She winked.

He smiled slightly, pulling away from her grasp. "I'll be fine," He gripped the last box firmly in his arms, before turning to the apartment steps. He stood there and waited for Anna to get in the car. She waved once she was settled, smiling at him and mouthing 'good luck', before driving away.

He took a deep breath and forced his feet to move. He stumbled over the steps in his Doc Martens, taking the box to his room. He had left the door open, and he pushed it aside to reveal a boy with sandy blond hair and green eyes, glasses framing them. "Hi," The boy breathed, taking a look at Castiel. "I'm Dean, your dorm mate," He said it as almost a question, to make sure it wasn't a mistake. "Room two-two-one-B, right?"

Castiel nodded, looking Dean up and down. "I'm Castiel." He gave a curt wave while taking the box to his room, and freeing a hand to put on his headphones. He started unpacking by setting up his bed, throwing on the many blankets, and cream colored sheets. He hung the fairy lights in the corner, of the room, over the bed. The bed was quite large, taking up most of the room. He didn't mind, he liked a big bed. The bed was always empty, besides himself. That's why he had so many pillows and blankets.

After an hour and a half, Castiel was basically finished. He had put away all of his clothes, tucked away his millions of pairs of Doc Martens, had his CD's and vinyls all tacked up on the wall, and everything else just about in order. He sat down in his spinny chair, exhausted from the stressful day and looked around his new room. Something tugged at his heart, a feeling of sadness. The summer was over, he was at a new school and had moved out of his old home. It was a big leap.

He still had dance to look forward to, at his studio and at school. He had gotten in the Arts Program with a scholarship. Grades were something Castiel worked hard on, he'd always had a hard time in school, mostly in Math and Science classes. He would pour most of his time into studying and dancing.

After a few moments of staring at the wall, he got up and walked out of his room. The rest of the dorm was actually pretty empty, neither Castiel nor Dean had brought living room furniture. Castiel figured that they would probably pitch in and buy some things to make it more homier. He wondered how he would get the money, maybe he could get a job at his studio. He taught some classes and took some of them as well. He had well experienced teaching ballet one, and the girls there loved him like a big brother. His dance studio was like his home, his family, they knew just about everything about Castiel...

With a deep breath, and a rush of anxiety, he walked to his dorm mate's room. The door was already open. "Do you need any help?" Castiel asked, while turning around the corner.

Dean stood there, in the middle of the room, and turned around to face Castiel. "No thanks," he brushed his face with his hand, wiping sweat, and took the hem of his shirt, fanning his stomach and chest. "I'm just about done,"

Castiel looked around Deans room. There was a single bed, with simple black and green sheets. It was pushed up against the wall, with a two leveled desk at the opposite, and no dresser. He presumed that he just had his clothes hanging in his closet.

Hung around the room were band posters, and an extensive collection of cassette tapes sat in a shoe box. Dean was dressed in dark, rather tight jeans, a band tee. A plaid button-up was thrown over his bed, he had probably taken it off. One thing, the one thing, that made Castiel know that he might just be able to get through having Dean as a roommate, were the classic black Docs planted on his feet.

+ + +

"Hey," Castiel poked his head out of his room, calling into the hall. "I'm heading out, okay?" He adjusted his dance bag on his shoulder.

"Where?" Half of Dean's body appeared out of his room.

He lied quickly. "To see my friend. I'll stop by the store and pick up dinner or something, I'll see you in a bit." He didn't like lying to Dean, a roommate which he was quickly becoming friends with, to find out that he danced. He'd just end up calling him a fag, it wouldn't really do anything to him, because in fact, he was. Getting called a name would just embarrass him. But it wasn't fun. If he were to actually tell him he were gay... People get a new view on you. Ask stupid questions like: "Do you have a crush on me?" "Were you checking me out?". It was all just an annoying, messy, situation that he didn't want to get into.

He would be going to this "friend" every weekday from six to nine, not including the hour and a half bus ride. He heaved a breath, before exiting his room, passing Dean who was still standing in his door.

"Thanks, you can use my car if you'd like, Cas." He smiled, and tossed Castiel the key.

The key hit his chest as he stood frozen in the hall, by the front door. He had called him a nickname. Cas. And offered him to use his car. His baby. The car that he had told Castiel he'd worked so hard on. All in the same sentence. He just stood there like a deer in the headlights. "Cas?" He questioned the name still staring at Dean.

His face flushed for a moment, before responding. "You don't mind me calling you that, do you? I mean Castiel is kind of a mouthful, so Cas is just a shortened version-" Dean rambled.

"No, I don't mind," He said, looking down at his boots with a small smile. "But your car, really? You'd let me drive the Impala?" Castiel bent down to pick up the key.

"It's not raining or anything, so why not?" He smiled at Castiel. "Plus, you're buying dinner so it's just a little payback."

Castiel rolled the keys over in his hands before accepting the offer. "Thank you. I might not be back until like nine thirty, so don't worry about me."

"Damn, what kinda friend are you visiting?"

Castiel let out a small laugh blushed, before exiting the apartment.

He had an hour to kill when he arrived at the studio. He sat in the car for a few minutes taking in everything. He let the classic rock play, even though he was more of an indie rock kinda guy. Deans collection of tapes expanded to the car, along with other types of things. He didn't mean to be nosy, but he looked around. There was a folded up map of the US on the dashboard, along with a little black contact book. He opened it up, and there sat many pages of numbers. It started out pretty normal, his brothers, dads, and uncles phone number neatly written with few others trailing behind. After about the third page, that's when it got to the girls. Messily scrawled numbers were abstractly printed on the pages, bits and pieces of paper stuffed in the binding with X's and O's, fortune cookie papers, napkins, anything Dean could get his hands on. Castiel was so caught up in looking through the numbers he didn't notice someone tapping on his window. He only looked up, startled, when the person shouted his name.

He turned off the ignition, grabbing his bag and stepping out of the car. "That is one hot car," Gelsey told Cas, admiring it. "I know it's not yours," She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear. Gelsey was one of Castiels closes friends.

"Yeah, it's my roommates. I told him I was hanging out with a friend..." He trailed off as they walked into the dance school.

"Why didn't you tell him you were just going to dance?" Gelsey questioned him.

"He'd call me a fag." It was a simple enough answer, he never told anyone about him dancing, if they were a potential friend.

"Dude, you're both going to a fuckin'-"

"Watch the language!" Clara, the ballet instructor, corrected Gelsey as they strode in.

Gelsey breathed out and rolled her eyes. "You're both studying at an art school. He has some weird artistic ability, yours is dance."

"It's not weird," Castiel laughed as he and Gelsey made their way to the viewing area, outside of studio A. They dropped their bags and started stretching. "It's stupid. I don't know how I got myself wrapped up in this shit."

It was Gelseys turn to laugh. "It's not stupid, you got talent. You've shot past me in like two years when I've been dancing since I was seven, you're taking like ten hours a week, while still attending college full time."

Castiel blushed, and said a quiet thanks. They sat and stretched until a few minutes until class.

"You take pointe with me today, don't you?" Gelsey poked Castiels side and he flinched.

"Yeah..." Even though pointe is typically a girls study, Clara had made him take the class Mondays and Fridays. It strengthens ankles, toes, and your pointe. And anyways, he had a small frame for a guy. Being gay is a genetic thing, and sometimes it does effect build and stuff. Castiel was not a fan of his pointe class, it was painful and mildly uncomfortable, being the only guy, and he was usually used to execute technique and choreography. Something all his teachers picked up on was how fast he could get choreography down, and he could usually perform a routine as it was being told to him, given if someone else had done it once before.

They entered class and immediately started warming up, Castiel at the end of the barre as usual. It was a typical class, going through positions, leaps, turns, technique, the usual. The highlight of class was Castiel getting told his lines were very good, and his leaps. Something he had always had to work on was his turns. He got dizzy very quickly and had a hard time finding a spot.

The class after pointe was lyrical. To be honest, he had always liked lyrical the best out of all his classes, but he wanted to be a professional ballerina, do shows like the Nutcracker or Swan Lake. Castiel had always had a strong connection to music, he didn't show much of his feelings, and music always did. Lyrical was just a way to get out those feelings into actions, without doing anything stupid.

Once his classes were over, he drove through the city for a bit, blaring the music and rolling the windows down. The late summer air smelled sweet to Castiel, a mix of warm day long breeze, and traffic fumes. Home.

The sky was fighting over night and day, the horizon of buildings blackened by the golden, fiery, pink glow of the setting sun behind them. On the other side was the quarter moon, glowing, and framed by the blue quickly turning indigo, night winning the war, but the presence of day still sat in the air.

Castiel found his way back to the apartment, remembering the way quite well. He had picked up a few things from Burger King, and couldn't wait to eat. He trotted up the stairs, Docs clunking on the way. He unlocked the door and stepped in. It was a bit hot, and he fanned his face with his loose tank top. The sweatpants didn't help any either.

"Hey Dean," he called, setting the bag on the island, they had yet to get a dining table, and their family room setting consisted of a jumble of many blankets and random pillows resting on an air mattress, and a TV sitting on a fruit crate. Neither rejected the set up, but rather enjoyed it. They both chuckled walking past it, thinking back to their trip to Target, grabbing necessities such as the many blankets, plates, cups, etceteria.

Castiel had felt irregularly comfortable around Dean. He didn't know why, but he broke him out of his anxiety ridden, closed off from the world, sad shell. It had been three weeks of them living together, they weren't too close, but Dean often tried to make Castiel laugh and smile, and they slowly found they were into the same kind of things, like music, books, and movies.

"Hey," Dean walked into the living area and spotted the food Castiel was already munching on. "Sweet Baby Jesus thank you," Dean sat down next to Castiel. He pulled out the single piece of boxed pie. He breathed in. "You didn't."

Castiel laughed, almost choking on his own food. "I did."

"Thanks man," He patted Castiel on the back and reached to give him a fist bump only to stop and look at his hand. "Dude is that a tattoo?"

"Yeah." He looked at the smiley face on his middle finger. "I have a few."

"A few?" Dean questioned, biting into his burger.

Castiel nodded, taking a bite of his own.

"If you don't mind, can I see?"

Castiel paused for a moment, he never showed his tattoos to anyone, but he didn't have an issue showing them to him. He pulled down on the waistband of his sweatpants a bit, to show a piece of skin with an identical smiley face, on the inside of his hipbone. He then after that, he took off his shirt to reveal a toned stomach and chest, and pointed to the one to the right of his chest a bit under the collarbone, it was a heart beat pulse with waves, and then, he turned around, to show a full back tattoo of two wings. Dean reached to trace the feathers, and Castiel shivered at the touch. "Cold hands," Cas laughed, grabbing his shirt and putting it back on. "So, what do you think?"

"Those are amazing," Dean breathed. "I don't have a tattoo, or any," Dean laughed. "But I do want one."

"Of what?"

"I don't know, yet."

"It'll come to you," He slid out of the stool and went to their makeshift couch, bringing his food with him. "Friday night movie night, what're we watching?" Castiel asked Dean.

"Lord of the Rings?" Dean came and sat next to him.

"Hell yes."


End file.
